The Truth Hurts
by PeachEclair
Summary: Jacob Frye is holding on to a secret. Well, quite a few, actually, but one secret in particular could threaten his sister's relationship with their father. This is hard enough, but in true Jacob fashion, he's gone and gotten into a fight. And didn't come out unharmed...
1. Injuries

**Hello everyone! Sorry for disappearing! I had meant to stick o my schedule, but there were some... unforeseen circumstances that demanded my attention, and I hadn't had a chance to write my next story, so I had to dig through the hundreds of documents on my Google Drive (only 2% are actually fanfictions) and I found this little gem! I had to change a little bit, because it was slightly cringey, and definitely OOC, but I hope you enjoy this chapter! And I will endeavour to get back into a routine uploading schedule. **

It was a bitter, wintry night. The type of cold that made passers-by walk a little quicker, and the beggars huddle under moth-eaten rags. It was the type of night that kept men in rowdy pubs and women in cosy houses. In short, it was a typical night in London in the year 1868.

Except for a lonely train that quietly wound around Whitechapel, all was as it should be. The train in question was hiding a secret in its carriages, or rather, three secrets. Three Assassins, all trying to keep London (and by extension, the world) safe from the diabolical ideals of the Templars. All while trying to keep from ripping each other's throats out.

Interestingly enough, it was the last one that they had trouble with.

"I've seen your handiwork across the city. Perhaps you should trust my judgement."

Jacob Frye turns at the accusation.

"I've been killing Starrick's henchmen. What've you been doing? Let's ask Henry, shall we?"

Evie retaliates, fury evident in her tone, all logic flying out the window.

"I've been repairing your mistakes. Too much haste is too little speed."

She steps forward while she speaks, daring Jacob to continue.

He doesn't let her down.

"Don't you dare quote Father at me!" He hisses, striding forward to meet her.

"That's Plato." Her cold tone quickly rises as her anger builds with each step. She continues angrily.

"And I'm sorry, but this doesn't involve anything you can destroy! Father was right, he never approved of your methods!" She had barely uttered these words when her twin brother threw up his arms, yelling; "FATHER IS DEAD!"

Evie, caught up in her rage, acts.

She slaps Jacob across the face.

The angry sound echoes around the suddenly quiet carriage as she gazes in determination at her brother, daring him to react. But her brother is standing still, mouth slightly open. Behind Jacob, she sees Henry Green close the door softly. He must have entered during the yelling match.

Jacob turns his head back towards Evie slowly. Evie braces herself for a physical fight, fists unconsciously curling, and stance widening, the instincts that were instilled in her during childhood surfacing.

But Jacob doesn't fight. He just steps backwards, shaking his head. A humourless smile set on his face. It quickly fades, becoming a grimace for a fraction of a second.

Evie's anger quickly dissipates. Something is wrong, Jacob never backs down from a fight, he loves conflict. In fact, he was famous around Crawley as a brawler, someone who even as a young boy, would take on the other children, regardless of age or skill. It was one of the reasons why their father was harder on Jacob growing up. The Assassin's weren't supposed to show off their skills, instead they were supposed to protect the innocent, not pick fights with them, even if they _were_ bullying the other children. This was the main source of argument in the Frye household, with Father believing that conflict could always be avoided and Jacob, usually red faced and shouting, arguing back that we were meant to _protect. _Evie, always sided with their Father. He was, after all, a Master Assassin, someone who was loved and respected. He wasn't wrong. He couldn't be wrong.

But Jacob pulls down his hood and turns, flinging open the carriage door, before jumping out into the enthralling darkness of the London night sky.

"JACOB!" Evie's cries pierce the empty darkness. It was no use. Jacob had already fled.

Evie's hands were still forming tight fists, and she felt herself release them subconsciously, as she stared out at the night. A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and she turned towards Henry, confused and slightly afraid.

"Henry, something's wrong with Jacob." Her voice wavers, almost unnoticeably, but it demonstrates the fear for her brother.

Henry Green could do not more than comfort the female Assassin, and hope that Jacob didn't do anything reckless in his unusual state of mind.

**ACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACS**

Jacob's feet were racing over the rooftops of London, he was barely paying attention to where he was going, just knowing that he needs to escape. His head was swirling with thoughts; _the argument, the Templar involvement, the night he lost Father, the events before the argument with Evie... the Alhambra... the kiss…_

So preoccupied with this last thought in his head, he doesn't realise that he's run out of roof. His feet leave the tiles as he panics, activating the rope launcher a second too late, causing him to plummet to the ground before being yanked into the side of a building, hard. He groans as pain flares up his side. He reaches up his free hand to gingerly check for broken ribs, but the shift in weight causes the rope launcher to break, sending Jacob to the ground, five metres below, which he meets with a thud.

He lies there, spread-eagled, as the pain increases. As much as he would like to lie in shame and misery forever, it would make him an easy target for the Blighters.

Jacob pulls himself into a sitting position using his left hand, the one without the broken rope launcher, and can't help but let the gasp of pain escape past his lips. He forces himself to grit his teeth together, and in one swift (albeit clumsy) movement, pulls himself to his feet.

And almost falls back down again.

It takes a minute of deep breathing before the spots in front of Jacob's eyes dissipate. He stands on the side of the street for a little longer before feeling like he can move without collapsing.

_Right. Different tactic._ Jacob thinks to himself. _I can bandage myself up later, but if I run into any Blighters, I won't last long. I can't fight or climb in this state, so I'll have to rely on- the rope launcher! Surely Aleck can fix it!_

With this new plan in his head Jacob begins to head to Aleck's workshop. It's a slow and painful process, but eventually, Jacob is in front of a familiar building. He tries the front door. It's unlocked, which doesn't cause much worry for the Assassin, as the Scottish inventor is quite absent-minded, and frequently gets caught up in his work. Speaking of the inventor…

As Jacob enters the room, he spies Aleck, hunched over his latest invention in pieces on his workbench. The familiar sight makes Jacob smile, but a throb of pain quickly reminds the Assassin why he's here.

"Aleck" Jacob calls quietly, so as not to scare his friend. His efforts are in vain however, as Aleck whips around, surprise written all over his face.

"Jacob! I didn't hear you come in! How are you?" Aleck greets the Assassin cheerfully.

"Aleck, I wondered if you would be able to repair this for me?" Jacob holds out his arm, as he sidesteps the question, deliberately drawing Aleck's attention away from the Assassin's well being.

"Oh yes! Of course! What seems to be the problem?" Thankfully Aleck was easily diverted, and the inventor immediately began to assess the broken rope launcher, his bandaged fingers lightly dancing over the cracked casing, mumbling to himself. This went on for a few more seconds until Aleck stopped, and whispered something that was too low for Jacob to catch. Aleck glanced upwards, and repeated himself.

"Blunt Force Trauma"

Jacob feels his blood freeze. Surely Aleck couldn't have guessed what happened? _No._ The Assassin assures himself. _Aleck is merely hypothesizing what happened to the _blade_. He doesn't know that I'm injured. Speaking of which-_

"Jacob! Are you okay?"

Aleck's voice startles the Assassin, causing him to whip his head towards the inventor, locking eyes with him. Aleck's concern is palpable, and Jacob feels small under the intense gaze, even though it is of worry, and not anger, or hate, it still unnerves the Assassin.

_Probably not used to others worrying about me._

"Hmm? Oh yes, I'm fine." Jacob reassures his friend. "Just thinking."

Aleck nods, clearly only half listening. "Did you have another fight with Evie?" He questioned.

Jacob momentarily stiffened before relaxing at Aleck's question. "I- yes. Yes I did."

Aleck's attention peaks at the sound of dejection in Jacob's voice. "I'm guessing it was bad?" He assumes, hands still.

Jacob gives a short mirthless laugh. "It was a doozy. I was upset, and Evie was tired, one thing lead to another and… Father was mentioned."

_That_ got Aleck's attention. Jacob rarely mentioned his father. Aleck had no idea why. Jacob had obviously loved the man, but every time his father was mentioned, he would change the subject.

"Jacob" Began Aleck, aware that he had to tread very carefully. "Why do you never talk about your father?"

Aleck had anticipated almost every possible outcome, ranging from Jacob shouting at him, to Jacob setting his house on fire. But never in his wildest dreams did he consider Jacob sighing, before saying the words; "I reminded Father of the wife that he had lost."

Aleck stood stock still, which Jacob saw as an opportunity to continue.

"Father was a well loved man, but he constantly pushed me to the best. I loved the attention that he would give me, and up until the age of about six, I felt that my father loved Evie and I equally. But it wasn't until I started to get into fights that my father came down hard on me. That lead to a small fight. Then two months later, we to argue over something else that I had done wrong, perhaps I messed up a training move, but we fought like dogs nonetheless. It started off with small things, but eventually, by the time I was a young teenager, we were arguing over everything. I would deliberately stay out late to annoy him, convinced that whatever I did was wrong in his eyes. Father would yell at me, regardless of how much I tried to do good, and always picked on me in training.

"Evie on the other hand, was the golden child. Where I could do no right, she could do no wrong. If that wasn't bad enough, she idolized Father, quoting his regularly and becoming his shadow. Evie started to believe everything our father said, especially concerning me. She was constantly telling me to better, stronger, to stop starting fights, or hanging out with my friends. That's what I hated my father for more than anything. He turned my sister against me."

Jacob stopped for a second. Why was he telling Aleck his darkest secrets? Jacob trusted the inventor, but not even his sister knew the truth. Was it because he was an emotional wreck? Perhaps, but he was also feeling light headed. Maybe he was bleeding out… Jacob pushed those thoughts away for a second and continued on with his story. He wasn't _seriously_ injured, right?

"With this new thought in mind, I got angrier at my father. I would start to do everything my father hated, until I was opposing his very belief about conflict by deliberately stirring up groups of people and running headlong into fights. That was the final straw for my father. He ordered that I come to his study after I returned home, bruised and battered, smelling of alcohol and blood at 3 o'clock in the morning. I complied, mostly out of exhaustion, and shuffled into the small room. Father was the angriest I've ever seen, he raised his voice, which _never_ happened. I, of course, met his anger with mine, and soon we were screaming at each other. I don't remember what lead to it, but I can recall the words Father said with utmost clarity; "YOU'RE TOO MUCH LIKE YOUR MOTHER!"

"That caused us both to freeze, letting the words sink in. Father had never mentioned Mother, so to learn that she was reckless, and impulsive like I was? It changed my point of view on Mother, who at that point was no more than a name to me. For Father, though, it brought back a lot of memories, and from that point on, he was distant to me, almost as if he was afraid of encouraging my reckless, to retain what little bit of Mother he had left, or discouraging it in order to keep me safe.

I didn't care however, I had finally learnt the reason why I wasn't good enough, why I would _never_ be good enough. I was just a reminder that his love had died, and the only thing that she left behind, other than the perfect daughter, was me. It wasn't until Father died that I realised that I had basically been an orphan since a young age."

Jacob had become physically distraught over the course of the story, and his last sentence was said through tears. Aleck was shocked at this surprising revelation. He moved forward to comfort the Assassin, but the second he touched the Assassin, Jacob cried out in pain, and sank to his knees.

"JACOB!" The inventor yelled, all thoughts instantly moving from comforting to panic.

Aleck sprinted forward, hands skimming over Jacob's now sprawled body, trying to detect the source of pain. The inventor reached his friend's side, and pulled his fingers away.

There was blood on them.

Aleck's breath hitched at the sight. Jacob, who was still conscious, felt his eyes widened. Where was the blood coming from? His side hurt, but sorely it was no more than a bruise, and some cracked ribs?

Aleck meanwhile, was trying not to hyperventilate. He could now see the small, yet gaping wound that was oozing blood. Although 'wound' wasn't the best way to describe it. It was a jagged hole, all the way through Jacob's body. It would've required a lot of force, and wasn't tidy enough around the edges to be on purpose. That left only one option.

Jacob had been impaled.

Aleck knew not how, or why, but he did know that Jacob was bleeding out on his floor. The doctors nearby would ask too many questions, and the other Assassins were too far, if Jacob's shoes gave any indication to how far he had run, so they only had one other option.

Florence Nightingale.

Lambeth Asylum wasn't too far from Aleck's apartment, and she was an ally to the Assassins, similar to Aleck. She was the most medically knowledgeable person he knew, and had access to medical supplies and facilities that he lacked. She was perfect for the job.

Mind made up, Aleck glanced down at Jacob. He was still conscious, but he was pale and trembling, and looked uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"How are you feeling, Jacob?" Aleck asks his friend. It was a stupid question, but Aleck wanted to keep Jacob conscious.

Jacob also agrees with Aleck's analysis of his question, as he gives a small smile, but remains silent. The silence speaks volumes to Aleck, as Jacob Frye is usually anything but quiet, and a testament to how much pain he is in. The adrenaline must have run out.

Aleck needs to be quick.

"Jacob, I'm going to carry you downstairs to my carriage, before taking you to Miss Nightingale's. Do you think that you can manage it?" Aleck asks the Assassin.

Jacob nods. Aleck takes a deep breath, before bending down and grabbing Jacob in his arms. The Assassin lets out a muffled pain filled cry, and Aleck can't help but feel guilty.

Aleck makes his way downstairs, trying not to hear Jacob's small gasps and groans. By the time Jacob is in the carriage, his groans have died down to murmurs as Jacob battles to keep conscious. Aleck doesn't know whether to be thankful or worried. Nevertheless, he grasps his friend's hand tightly, before letting go to move to the front of the carriage. The inventor climbs up into the driver's seat, feeling a slight déjà vu moment from the amount of times that he's been assisted by the Frye twins. Except, when he is helped, he isn't the one driving. Now though? He is alone.

**ACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACS**

Florence Nightingale has just finished attending to her patients and making her rounds, when she hears the unmistakable sound of a frantic carriage. Being a nurse in the working neighbourhoods of London means that she is no stranger to carriages tearing into the courtyard with a half dead passenger in the back. With this in mind, she runs out to meet whoever it is.

She flings open the door, and stops momentarily. Aleck had pulled up outside the hospital, and now was opening the passenger door to display the unconscious patient. Florence feels her heart still as she recognises Jacob Frye. She quickly dashes forward, and approaches both men.

"What happened?" She gasps, turning towards the inventor.

"I don't know, h-he cried out when I touched him, and just collapsed! I-I think, I think he's been.. impaled." Aleck finished quietly.

Florence whips her head around to look at Aleck.

"Are, are you certain?" She questions him.

This changes things, she realised. Before she had been worried about trauma to the head, but if Jacob's bleeding internally…

Thankfully, two nurses run out holding a stretcher. Florence and Aleck assist them in transferring Jacob over onto the stretcher. He doesn't move or make a sound, which frightens the inventor more than he lets on. Now, he's left alone as Jacob disappears.

"We'll handle it from here Aleck. Does his sister know?" Florence's voice cuts through the fog surrounding Aleck's brain, and her last sentence causes dread to settle in Aleck's stomach.

Oh no. Evie was going to _eviscerate_ him.

**That's all for now folks! The next chapter is still very much a work in progress, so if you have any ideas, please let me know! Also, thank you so much to the people who have reviewed or favourited my work! It means a lot to me. **

**\- Peach **


	2. Anxieties

**Hi everyone!**

**So I apologise if the treatments or injuries aren't medically accurate, my knowledge comes from other fanfictions and the internet (thank you WebMD!). **

**As well as this, I have been stuck on progressing this story. Partly because I had writer's block, partly because I'm an idiot who didn't plan ahead. I've learnt my lesson. Thankfully I had constructed a very rough idea when I had started, so I'm not writing blind, but I certainly didn't do myself any favours. Oh well!**

**Enough excuses, enjoy the story!**

Evie Frye was cursing every deity she knew of, which were quite a considerable amount. Not only had her brother just backed away from a fight, something that Jacob would _never_ in his right mind do, but he had also just ran off into the night.

The female assassin had never doubted her brother's skill before, but there was obviously something wrong. Enough so, that Jacob could actually get hurt, which was not something that she had to ever consider before.

This accumulated to Evie pacing around the carriage, neither sitting nor standing still for long. She knew that she was driving Henry crazy, but she couldn't find it in herself to calm down. Of course, she could have gone after her brother, but pride blocked her way. Jacob would find it hilarious that she still felt the need to continually check up on her brother, even though they could probably take down any one in London, male or female, but tonight was different. And was she really going to let pride stand in the way of her brother's safety?

Evie spun around to face Henry, who already looked weary and tired despite it being before midnight, and opened her mouth to announce that she was going to look for her brother, when a knock on the door sounded throughout the carriage.

Evie turned towards the knock, closing her mouth as she did. Henry too, got up from the chair that he had been occupying, and strode towards the door, opening it with a quiet sound. In the doorway stood a Rook, a young woman who couldn't have been more than 19, bent over and clearly out of breath.

"Miss Frye!" She gasped, clutching her side, "it's... it's Jacob!"

Evie stiffened, a shadow of fear creeping into her mind. The young Rook looked distraught, and by the look of it, the information about her wayward brother was unfortunate. Evie felt her heart race as the fleeting thought of burying her last family member sprung into her head, uninvited. She pushed it away, scolding herself for thinking like that.

_W-what is it? What happened? _

It was only after the looks directed her way that she realised that she had spoken aloud.

Whatever had happened must have been _truly _awful, as the Rook was silent for a moment, her eyes wandering, as if she was trying to work out the best way to break the news to the panicked assassin. This was unnecessary, as Evie was already wound up.

The Rook eventually met Evie's eyes and spoke. Her tone was sympathetic and soft, but that only thing that registered in the twin's brain was the message;

"Jacob was brought to Miss Nightingale by Mister Aleck. He was… it's bad."

Evie almost didn't understand what the Rook was trying to say. _Why would Aleck take Jacob to Miss Nightingale's? Although she helped out with the Rooks, she was a nurse- Oh please no..._

Instantly, Evie felt as though she had fallen in the Thames. Ice seemed to flow through her veins, the world became murky and sound was now distorted. Some part of her that wasn't freaking out realised that Henry was speaking to her, his face creased in concern. The young Rook who had delivered the message had gone, presumably to alert the other Rooks. To tell them that one of their leaders, Evie's _brother_ had been injured…

Evie blinked. She was in a carriage. A nice looking carriage that looked familiar. _Aleck's_ carriage in fact. But that didn't make sense. Where was Aleck? A glance around answered that question. The inventor was in the far corner, anxiously twisted his consistently bandaged fingers. He appeared to be deep in thought, and carried an air of uncertainty and anxiety around him. Now that that question had been answered, Evie tried to make sense of the situation. She had been in the train with Henry, and now she was in a carriage with Aleck.

_When had that happened?_ She had trouble remembering what had transpired between the journey from the train to the carriage. Had she blacked out?

Henry, who she now noticed was sitting beside her, noticed her confusion. His face lit up and his voice was hopeful.

"Miss Frye? Are you with us?" He spoke cautiously, as one would to a wounded animal.

Evie nodded slowly, taking in her surroundings a little more. Some part of her brain was confused at how she had missed Henry the first time she glanced around, but put it down to disorientation. Henry sighed in relief at the sight of the responsive Assassin, happy that the shock had worn off. Not that he blamed her, although the twins fought often, anyone could see how deep and strong their bond was.

As if Evie could sense Henry's mood, she turned away from him, to look out the window at the dark shapes passing by outside, the only light being from similar carriages who had braved the cold night.

Henry picked up on Evie's distress and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be alright Miss Frye, your brother is quite the fighter." There was nothing else that he could say.

The rest of the carriage ride was spent in silence, the occupants of the carriage being too preoccupied with thoughts of the worst case scenario running through their heads.

**ACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACSACS**

If there was one thing that Miss Florence Nightingale hated about nursing, it was speaking to the distraught families. True, she worked in an asylum, and the news was usually expected, but there was nothing as shattering than watching the faces crumple, the tears fall, the wails start. It was even worse when the nurse knew the patient or the patient's family. There was repeatedly some underlying hope, usually misplaced, that because they had faith in her everything would be okay. Those talks were always the most heartbreaking.

That was why Florence was steeling herself for the conversation that she would have to have with Evie Frye, regarding her brother. It certainly wasn't going to be an easy one. It never was when family members were concerned. Sometimes Florence wished that she had chosen another profession, but the look on the faces of family members when they were told good news was worth every bad moment. That was what she told herself in moments like these.

No sooner had she thought this, the sound of a series of people running down the corridor caught her attention. She looked up to see Evie Frye, Henry Green and Alexander Graham Bell, who must have found them at the entrance, running towards her. Florence felt her expression soften at the pure terror on the young woman's face. Her appearance spoke volumes about her mental state, as although Florence hadn't been assisting the Fryes for too long, she had never seen Evie presented in any way other than immaculate.

As the new party approached the nurse, she took a deep breath in and tried to relax her tense shoulders. One of the things that she had learnt while working with anxious family members was that if you appeared calm and in control, the situation didn't seem as bad. Words of comfort had little to no meaning if you looked dispirited, and body language spoke volumes about the truth behind the critical nature of the patient. This was doubly important since most of the party were Assassins, and noticed details that others did not.

"Miss Nightingale, my brother, how is he? Is he alright? What happened?" This fast paced interrogation was from Evie, who now stood directly in front of the nurse, with Henry and Aleck on either side. All of them wore similar expressions of worry. Evie had abandoned what little calm she had, and was quickly working herself into a panic. Time for interference.

Florence nodded her head calmly in response to Evie's first question before answering the rest. "He suffered from a wound in the lower abdomen, on his right side. It was made by an unidentified object, which impaled him, as he has a smaller wound in his lower back. We suspect that the object was metal. He has been treated for his wounds and possible infection as a result."

When the nurse had finished explaining Jacob's injuries, she gently placed a hand on Evie's shoulder. Evie had started to tremble slightly, and her face openly displayed the shock and horror that she and her companions felt upon hearing the description of the young assassin's injuries. Florence looked the female assassin in the eye, answering the question that Evie was really asking.

"Jacob will be okay."

Evie felt her body relax as relief flooded her system. She was too elated to thank Florence, but she could tell that the nurse understood her. Behind the female assassin, Henry and Aleck both breathed a sigh of relief at the good news.

Florence smiled to herself, the sight of the assassins happy bringing joy to her heart. She knew that the road would be rough ahead, but it looked as if Jacob would be in good company.

"May we see him?" Evie's even voice almost sounded as controlled as it usually was, but Florence could detect the underlying hope and a bit of fear in the young assassin's voice. Obviously Evie was psyching herself up for how beaten her brother was.

The nurse nodded her head, looking beyond Evie towards the two men who were still midway through reassuring themselves that Jacob would be fine. She caught Henry's eye, and he shook his head slightly, answering her unspoken question that he and Aleck would wait until after Evie to see Jacob for themselves.

Florence focused her attention on Evie again, saying a gentle "Follow me, please" to the assassin before turning to walk down the corridor briskly, Evie following close behind, almost with uncertainty.

They arrived at a fairly nondescript door, the only clue to what lay inside being the number marked at the top, indicating that it was one of the many patient rooms. Florence knocked twice to alert any nurses inside before opening the door, ushering Evie inside first before closing it after her, allowing the assassin some privacy.

The rather small room was dominated by the bed in the centre, the headboard against the wall adjacent to the door, with chairs on either side of the bed, leaning against the walls. Although the curtains on the far side were pulled, the room was fairly bright, due to the lamps adorning the room. The room had an air of practicality in it, the blankets and painted walls were in neutral colours, and the shelves lining the wall opposite the bed were tidely arranged with various medicines and medical paraphernalia on them. Finally, the clipboard at the end of the bed was covered in untidy doctor's scrawl, detailing the extent of Jacob's injuries.

Despite her assassin training, Evie noticed none of that. The only thing that she had eyes for was the unconscious figure in the bed. Her brother.

She flew to her brother's bedside, pulling up a chair as she did so. Jacob, for lack of better words, looked terrible. He was pale, which highlighted the fresh bruises on his head and arms. They would only get more colourful over the next few days. The blanket that was covering him only reachedhis waist, allowing Evie to see the slightly bloody bandage wrapped around Jacob's side. Her brother's face was screwed up in pain, the tension in his body still holding, even though he was unconscious. Jacob had been changed into hospital pajamas, which just made him appear small and weak. It wasn't a look that Evie associated with her strong and brash brother and in made her heart clench seeing him in obvious discomfort and out of his element.

"Oh Jacob" She sighed softly, grasping her brother's larger hand in hers. "I was so worried when you ran out, you were acting so unlike yourself. And then I hear that you're severely injured and in hospital…What happened to you?"

Evie couldn't help but ask aloud, even though her brother had no chance of hearing or answering her. Sitting by herself in a quiet hospital room she made up her mind. Something had affected her brother, and she was going to find out.

**Dun dun dun!**

**Now I have to try and remember what's supposed to happen in the next chapter. Oops!**


End file.
